


A copper and a stripper

by LostinFic



Series: Any David Tennant character x Any Billie Piper character [1]
Category: Broadchurch, Playhouse presents Foxtrot
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Ficlet, Teninch Fic, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "You look familiar"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A copper and a stripper

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen Foxtrot, all you need to know is that Billie Piper plays a stripper called Badger who kidnaps someone for her boss.

What the bloody hell is wrong with this world? Strippers abducting people? Hardy locked the handcuffs around the blonde’s wrists.

  
“I’m arresting you for the kidnapping of Ezra Addams—“  
“You look familiar, haven’t I seen you at the club?” she asks, seemingly unfazed by being arrested.

Somehow, the first thing that comes to his mind at the mention of a club is that Groucho Marx quote about refusing to join any club that would have him as a member.  
Alec scoffs.

  
“You have the right to remain—“  
“Yeah, yeah, a stag-do, 2 months ago,” she continues, her face brightening up.  
He feels dizzy at the mere mention of the stag-do: there had been beer, followed by whisky, followed by tequila and who knows what else.  
“Your mates, they’d paid me to give you a lap dance.”

  
Alec stills, his hand on her wrists, forgetting what he was doing. He suddenly remembers stumbling into a dark room with a disco ball, an undulating silhouette and someone helping him sit down in a chair. “They tell me you haven’t been with anyone since your divorce,” she’d said in a sultry voice. She’d run her hands over him and it had felt so good to be touched by a woman. She’d grinded in his laps, snaking her hips above his crotch to the music of some awful song about candy shops.

  
Hardy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his head spinning again just like it had that night.

  
“You started crying, I didn’t know what to do, so I gave you a blow job,” the blonde woman adds.

  
There’s an acrid taste in the back of his throat like acid reflux or nausea. The memories keep coming back to him, fast and blurry like travelling through a vortex: staggering out of the club and getting in a cab, fumbling with a bra, rutting between a pair of long, shapely legs, an excruciating headache and a promise to call.   
“Badger?”  
“Yes!”   
“Bloody hell.”


End file.
